"Yes," Tess replied sprightly, raising her hands expansively. "It's a perfect day for it, isn't it?"
The engineer glanced at Reilly and at the old man, unsure of what to make of this. "We have some equipment, yes, but it is used only once or twice a year," he said hesitantly. "It will need checking, I don't know if—"
She jumped right in. "My colleague and I can check them out. We do it all the time. Shall we follow you?" Reilly looked at her uncertainly. She shot him back a look of utter confidence. He was still pondering her wild suggestion that they were both trained divers. He didn't know about her, but he had nothing more than the most rudimentary basic training underwater. Still, he wasn't about to put a damper on her parade—not here, not in front of the two strangers. He was curious to see where her determination would lead.
Okan was decidedly uncomfortable with the idea. "I'm not sure, I— I'm not authorized to do anything like that."
"Oh, I'm sure it'll be fine." She flashed that smile again. "We'll sign a waiver, of course," she assured him. "It'll be entirely our responsibility. And, obviously, we're very happy to pay a fee to . . . the company—for the use of the equipment." The pause before she said "the company" was perfectly timed.
Any shorter and Okan could've missed it; any longer and he might've been insulted at such a clumsily implied bribe.
The little man studied her for a moment, then his mustache twitched and he shrugged. "Okay. Come with me. Let me show you what we have."
* * *
A narrow staircase led down from the office into a dusty storeroom that was haphazardly piled with equipment and hazily lit by a fluorescent lamp that flickered and buzzed. In the blue glow, Reilly could discern an arc-welding set, butane gas bottles, an oxy-acetylene burning rig, and, in the far corner, a heap of diving gear.
He left it to Tess to sort through them, and, as she hefted each piece of equipment, it seemed like she knew what she was doing.
"It's not state of the art, but it'll do," she said, shrugging.
She hadn't been able to find a dive computer, though, which they'd have to manage without. She saw a dive chart on the wall and asked Okan how deep the lake was. He told her he thought it was a hundred, maybe a hundred and twenty feet deep. She consulted the chart and frowned. "We won't have that much time at the bottom. We'll need to start our dive right on top of the village." Turning to Okan again, she asked him if he had anything that showed its location.
The little man's brow furrowed, pondering the matter. "You must talk to Rustem," he finally said.
"He lived in the village before it was flooded, and he never left the area. If anyone knows where the church is, he will."
Reilly waited for Okan to step outside the room for a moment before turning to Tess. "This is crazy.
We should bring in some pros."
"You're forgetting something. I am a professional," she insisted. "I've done this a hundred times."
"Yes, but not like this. Besides, I'm not too happy about having both of us down there without anyone keeping an eye topside."
"We've got to give it a shot. Come on, you said it yourself. There's no one around. We've beaten Vance to it." She leaned into him, her face lit with anticipation. "We can't stop now. Not when we're this close."
"One dive," he relented. "Then we make the call."
She was already heading for the door. "Let's make it count."
They carried the gear up the staircase and piled everything into the back of the Pajero. Okan invited Tess into his rusty white Fiat, asking Reilly to follow him with the old man. Reilly looked at Tess, who winked conspiratorially before folding her legs into the small car to the obvious delight of the engineer.
The Pajero followed Okan's car along an asphalt service road for about half a mile until the engineer pulled off and stopped beside a chain-link compound inside which were piled concrete blocks, drainage pipes, and dozens of empty oil drums; all the usual clutter left over at the end of any building project. Inside the compound, an old man in traditional headdress and robe was pottering around. Reilly guessed that a littie bit of private enterprise was in operation here and wasn't at all surprised when Okan introduced the recycler, Rustem, as his uncle.
Rustem smiled toothlessly at them, then listened intently as his nephew rattled off some questions before answering with lots of arm waving and enthusiastic nodding.
Okan turned to Tess and Reilly. "My uncle remembers the remains of the village very well. For many years, he brought his goats to this place. He says only parts of the church still stand." He shrugged, interpolating a comment of his own. "At least, that's how it was before the valley was flooded. There was a well close to the church, and he remembers a . . ." Okan frowned, searching for the words. "The dead root of a very big tree."
"A tree stump," Tess said.
"Stump, yes, that's it. The stump of a willow tree."
Tess turned to Reilly, her eyes blazing with anticipation.
"So, what do you think? Is it worth a look?" he deadpanned.
"If you insist," she grinned.
They thanked Okan and the old man who drove off, the engineer flashing a reluctant last glance at Tess and, before long, she and Reilly had pulled on their wetsuits and lugged their gear to the water's edge, where Rustem kept a couple of small rowboats. They clambered aboard, then Rustem pushed them off and scrambled in himself. Picking up the oars, he began to row with the easy movements of someone for whom this had been a lifelong practice.
Tess used the ride out to remind Reilly of the routine procedures he vaguely recalled from his only previous diving experience, during a short holiday in the Cayman Islands four years earlier.
Rustem stopped rowing when they were roughly halfway between the east and west shorelines and about three-quarters of a mile from the dam. Muttering to himself as he squinted first at one nearby hilltop, then at another and another, he used one of the oars as a paddle to make a succession of careful positioning movements. As he did this, Reilly reached over the side and swirled both of the masks in the water.
"What do you think is down there?" he asked.
"I don't know." She looked solemnly at the water. "Right now, I'm just hoping it's there."
They stared at one another in silence, then realized that the old man had stopped and was displaying his gums in a triumphant beam. He pointed downward. "Kilise suyun altinda," he told them. The words sounded similar to those used by the frail man from the restaurant.
"Siikmn" Tess said.
"What did he say?"
"Damned if I know," she replied as she climbed onto the edge of the boat before adding, "but I'm pretty sure kilise means church, so I guess this must be it." She cocked her head at him. "You coming or what?"
And before he could answer, she had pulled down her mask and let herself roll backward into the reservoir with barely a splash. After a glance at Rustem, who raised a thumb in a decidedly modern gesture, Reilly followed her, far less gracefully, into the dark water.
Chapter 58
A s they descended into the cold gloom of the lake, Tess was overcome with a familiar rush, one that she craved badly. There was something almost mystical in knowing that she may be about to see things that had not been seen by human eyes for many years. It was already a heady feeling on land, closing in on the remnants of long-lost civilizations that lay hidden beneath centuries of sand and earth. When the site was buried under a mountain of water, the exhilaration was even greater.
This dive, though, trumped them all as far as she was concerned. If most excavations or dives at least began with the promise of some great discovery, they more often than not proved disappointing. This one was different. The trail of clues that had brought them to this lake, the nature of the coded message, and the lengths to which people were prepared to go to get to it all pointed to her being on the verge of an archaeological discovery of far greater significance than anything she had ever realistically expected to make.